Don't Do Magic Drunk
by OniAkamari
Summary: Jonathan has returned to Egypt, yet again, as a favor for Evelyn. But when a strange old book appears before him just how will /this/ trip to Egypt manage change his life? Rated for Later Chapters.


**Author's Note:** So this is dedicated to my friend Rach who without this would not be possible. She made me interested int his insane pairing and due to the lack of anything for it, she sold me her fic idea and now Im wring for the insaneness that is ImJon

**Disclaimer:** I dont own _The Mummy_ blah blah blah None of the characters or settings are mine blah blah blah Don't sue my sorry self please please please Enjoy my fic and comment thanks thanks thanks

* * *

Egypt. Sand, curses, mummies, ancient spells and deadly artifacts all wrapped up in one nifty little country. It was in this country that Jonathan Carnahan found himself. Yet again. Oh, honestly, if Evelyn would come to this wretched place herself to retrieve artifacts Jonathan would be a somewhat happier man.

But right now he was a somewhat drunk man. He took another swig of his rum and roughly hit his hand on the table "And then…she says… d'you know what she says? She says I needs to find myself a jobs, my own place…and a womans. So I says ..ehe…you know what I says? Do ya ol' chap?"

The bartender looked at him blankly. "I think you've have enough to drink, sir."

"Oi! I'll tell you when I've had enough to drink," he said angrily as he stood…only to crash back down to the floor. "…I tink I've had enough to drink," he laughed.

The bartender shook his head and called for one of the bagboys of the hotel to show Mr. Carnahan to his room. The young man lead the drunk fellow to his room and helped him inside before closing him in and leaving. Worst part of the job, escorting talking drunks.

Jonathan looked around his room before he stumbled over to his suitcase. He pulled a bottle out and drank from it before nearly gagging. He shook his head trying to clear it off the taste. "Nasty little bugger," he muttered looking at the bottle before putting it back. Well. He might not be tasting anything for awhile..but his head was cleared for the time being. He still stumbled about but he could think clearly well he face planted. And that's what mattered.

By nothing less than a miracle he made it over to the bed and fell on expecting the fluffiest rock this hotel called a mattress. Instead he found himself with a book pressed to his stomach. "Bloody hell.." he muttered pulling the object out from under him and blinking at it.

What was this…? He didn't remember this… Had Evelyn had yet another object for him to smuggle through customs? He looked at it curiously. But then…there would have been a note or something from its deliverer or even a death threat note from his baby sister telling him his life was worth less than the book. And yet..there was no note or threat to his life..

So without anything telling him not to open that's exactly what he did. He sat up and flipped through the book, its pages yellowed with age but the words still black as night.  


"Spells. How peculiar, as though these would even work! A spell to revive the dead? That's a lau-…..Okay, you're not reading that one a loud old boy.."

He continued to flip through the pages, mentally noting any page with any chance of being connected to some ancient revival ritual. If it contained the words 'mummy' 'death' 'dark' 'doom' or anything in the category it was avoided like the plague it could probably bring about.

"….love spell?" he hmmed to himself. He read over the page. "'To call forth your soul mate recite these words when night becomes day and the holy liquid is aflame.' Well that's just brilliant isn't it?"

He glanced at the clock, eleven fifty. So he had ten minutes if he was even going to go through with this little hocus pocus. "Holy liquid… holy liquid…" he pulled a thing of rum from his coat pocket and smiled, "Holy liquid!" He snagged a match from the bed side table and placed it near the bottle before looking at the book and the spell.

And he had a sudden thought. What if he and his soul mate spoke different languages? What if she were French? Well he didn't want to have to learn another useless language just to communicate! No he did not. So Jonathan took a pen from his pocket and scribbled his form of writing on the page and tweeked the spell just a tad. On the off chance this did actually work. Which he doubted.

But this was Egypt. Where he had seen a 3,000 year old mummy wreak havoc not once but twice. But alas, he still felt no reason to believe this strange little book would work, nope. No reason what so ever.

He watched the little glowing numbers turn to all zeros before lighting the match and sparking rum the rum-flame-in-a-bottle as he spoke the little spell, "Spirits on the other side here my plea and bring that which has been lost to me. Let there be no barriers of the souls as I summon the spirit of my heart." Well it was easy to see the un rhyming part had been Jonathans brilliant addition.

A chill ran over the room and his holy rum fire was extinguished but that was all. No spirits, or beautiful French women in sight. "Typical…" he hmmned before tossing the book at the foot of the bed. He looked at the rum, the match rolling around the bottom of the bottle. He shrugged and took a swig of it before wrinkling his nose. "Ashy…" he shook his head and put the bottle down before falling on the bed. To tired and drunk to change or to care about changing for that matter, he simply kicked his shoes off and lay there letting sleep take hold.

* * *

Jonathan slept surprisingly well for a drunk man. And he had hopes his morning would be a good one when he went to sit up. However, luck and hopes did not mix well for the Carnahan.

As he sat up he curiously wondered why he was not yet blinded by the sun that the hotel's crummy window shades failed to block out. It was then he noticed a shadow had fallen over his bed. A shadow of what however? He turned towards the welcoming shade giver before he let out a scream, soon biting his hand so he did not anger the creature standing beside his bed.

Fore beside his bed stood none other than the bane of his existence for over a decade. Imhotep.

The should-be-dead-and-decaying priest was not happy. He glared at Jonathan who had pressed himself up against the head board muttering something along the lines of 'please don't eat me please don't eat me.'

"You. Why have you summoned me mortal?"

Well this was a change, he could understand the creature. Perhaps…the creature wasn't even here. Perhaps Jonathan was just drunk, and the mummy was just a figment of his delusional imagination. That would make perfect sense. Yes. He was still drunk and thus the mummy was not here and he was acting like a fool for no reason.

He relaxed visibly and bat his hand at the mummy who blinked at the gesture curiously. "I haven't summoned you. I'm still drunk. So please kindly shoo and leave me to my hangover." He stood and brushed past the mummy and was about to head towards the bathroom when the figment of his imagination grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and flung him into a wall.

He fell with a thud and whimper. Oh god. Imhotep flung him…meaning Imhotep was here. And he had just angered the temperamental mummy. Oh god he was going to die. And Evelyn would never see her artifact..or knowing her the woman would call Jonathan back from the dead, demand her trinket, and then kill him for not bring it on time. Either way this was the end, he was sure of it.

"Mortal. What right have you to summon me?" Imhotep hissed.

"I didn't summon you! I wouldn't summon you at all! Ah uhm…Not that I wouldn't enjoy summoning or anything like that! ….oh god I'm going to die…"

Imhotep held up the book Jonathan had found last night. "One of the pages in this book is blank. A summoning spell. The one you used to call me from the other side," he said throwing the book to Jonathans feet.

Jonathan stared at the book. Of all of life's cruel jokes this was the cruelest. There was no way that bloody love spell had brought Imhotep! "Listen here mummy..ah Imhotep," glared at, "Prince Imhotep…" oh god he was going to die painfully, "that spell was not meant for you!"

He did not look amused.

So Jonathan went into a rapid explanation about the spell, feeling like a complete fool for having casted it and for explaining it to Imhotep of all people. Once done he pulled his knees to his chest in the fedal position and sat there awaiting his doom.

Imhotep stared at him blankly. "You…attempted to summon a lover.."

"Yes…."

"And you summoned…me…"

"Yes…."

"That book is broken."

"Thank you for agreeing."

"Now return me. I have no desires to stay on this plane any longer."

"..."

"Well? Mortal, that was a command. Send me back."

"I …uhm… I can't…"

"Excuse me?" he hissed.

Jonathan hid further in his corner, "I only summoned you because of the book…I don't know how to send you home."

"Well find some way," Imhotep hissed. "Or it will cost you your life, mortal."

Jonathan winced. How did he know this conversation was going to head towards a dead Englishman? "I'll see what I can do…"

"Good."

Imhotep stood by the window and leaned against the wall. This was not his world. He had no desire to be in it. His place was at the palace, in Hamunaptra.. with Anck-su-namun.. He clenched his fists as he remembered her betrayal. No..he did not need her any longer. He would be fine on his own…forever damned.


End file.
